


Incognito

by orphan_account



Category: 21 Jump Street (2012), Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Law Enforcement, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Smoke Weed Everyday, undercover cop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-19 16:46:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1476862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a boarding school is suspected of hosting an underground drug and crime ring, measures must be taken to ensure the safety of the students and faculty. Even if those measures include sending two young, freshly-trained  police officers, Bertolt Fubar and Reiner Braun, who are forced to relive high school when they are assigned to go undercover as high school students to prevent the outbreak of a drug ring and arrest its king pin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Incognito

**THE YEAR 2009**

 

Was it the hot Southern California weather or the loud beats of the Black Eyed Peas song playing in the halls? Or was it that in less than a week, prom was coming up. He was sweating, profusely. Buckets, bullets, fountains of sweat just trickling down his forehead as he nervously hiked up his too-short skinny jeans-mismatched socks showing above the tops of his Jordans-and smoothed the front of his Ed Hardy t-shirt. He looked and felt like a total tool, having spent half his savings on this douchey outfit, but at least he looked somewhat different.

 

Nervously, he trudged down the hallway, passing lockers decorated with tan and purple colors, with messages as “CLASS OF 2009!” and “Go Badgers!”

 

Finally, he saw her. Standing by her open locker as she glanced into the mirror and applied her lipgloss, her gorgeous hair tied into two ponytails, clad in tiny high-waisted shorts. And she was all alone, there was barely anybody in the hallways, allowing a perfect setting. Slowly, he approached the object of his affections.

This was it. He, Bertolt Fubar, was finally going to ask her out. Bertolt had been planning this since the first day of freshman year, ever since he saw her cute ponytails and heard her tinkling laugh in his Honors Trig class. Sure, he had missed plenty of opportunities: including but not limited to Homecoming, Winter Ball,  and Junior Prom, but this was it, he was finally going to overcome his shyness and move on. Bertolt Fubar was finally going to ask out a girl. A cute girl for that matter.

Slowly he approached her, looking down at the cute brunette, voice shaking as he greeted, “Hey, Mina…”

Mina quickly put away her lipgloss, closing her locker and focusing on her greeter, “Hey.”

Bertolt nervously fumbled with his hands, unable to look into her eyes, “Look, I know we’ve known each other for a really long time. And we live across the street and stuff. And…” feeling a sense of courage, he looked into her eyes, “I know like in four days, I’m sure if… You know prom’s in four days…”

 

“Oh my god!” A loud roar of laughter was heard behind him and he quickly whipped his head around to be greeted by the sight of Reiner Braun, the school’s resident meathead, and his lesser cronies, all clad in their matching letterman jackets. “Did you just fucking see that?! What a fucking nerd!” Braun erupted in guffaws, loudly pounding the lockers.

Bertolt hesitantly turned back to Mina who had a furrowed look on her perfect face, “You’re not asking me to prom, are you?”

“Fuck no! No, I...No, I just thought…” he defended himself, feeling let down by the meathead's comments. Slumping his shoulders in defeat, he added, “You’re probably going with someone.”

“Yeah….” Mina dragged on, looking slightly to the side. “You know what, it was nice seeing you...uhm..Bernard.”

“Bertolt.” he corrected, looking down at his feet, sweating profusely.

“See you around, Bertolt.” Mina gave a small smile, quickly adjusting the shoulder strap of her bag and heading off to the student quad.

Watching Mina walk away, Bertolt signed in defeat, regretful over choosing to back down instead of pursue her. Suddenly felt a pound on his back and came face to face with Reiner Braun, who was still amused by the event, “There is no nice way to put this. You’re a fucking nerd. And you know, I don’t know...Mina Carolina is hot. Way too hot to be seen with your ass.” He gestured to his equally mindless cronies, who laughed on command. One sneered, “Need a bucket or a towel for those pit stains?”

 

Bertolt then strapped his backpack to both shoulders, sighing as he kept his gaze to the floor, walking straight down the hall and out the double doors of the institution responsible for his four years of misery, leaning against the outside wall, huffing in defeat.

The cronies clapped Reiner on the back, “Dude, classic.” as he nodded, “Good line there, buddy.” The trio engaged in conversation: beginning with the seasonal football games to girls to how Reiner was totally going to win prom king by a landslide. All seemed perfect in his mind until the announcement speakers gave a low crackle, and a raspy voice spoke up:

“REINER BRAUN TO THE PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE.”

_Again._

“REINER BRAUN TO THE PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE.” The PA announcement sounded across the school hallways. Reiner, seeming disappointed, retorted, “Shit!” His cronies gave him a “Good luck, broski” before heading off in the direction of the student quad. Left on his own, Reiner marched to the principal's office, the hallways growing darker as he entered forbidden Administration zone. Nervously, he sauntered inside, waiting to be called in. He wasn’t a nerd or some award-winning loser or some other shit like that, so the principal didn’t want to have a nice chat with him and congratulate him on something,  there was only one reason a guy like him would be called into the principal’s office...

 

“I said loud and clear, if you didn’t get your grades up, you weren’t going to prom.” The stern-voiced administrator cast a glance at Reiner, holding his most recent failure-a 0/120 Physics tests-as evidence, “You, my friend, are about to pay the piper.”

“I pay who?” Reiner confusedly asked, furrowing his pale brows. He shifted slightly in his too-low seat, trying to get comfortable on the hard plastic.

“Boy, you are not going to the prom.” She stated, sighing, “You’re lucky to be even graduating.”

Reiner’s hazel eyes immediately widened at the news and he protested, “But I’m going to be prom king.”

The administrator shook her head, she crossed her arms over her polished oak desk, “I’m glad you had a great time in school. “‘Cause you ain’t learned nothing!”

 

Dejected, Reiner rushed outside of the school premises, throwing open the double doors, kicking down an innocent trashcan, stringing creative combinations of curses. Pausing outside while he leaned against the wall, he caught the eye of that one sweaty loser, quickly narrowing his eyes at pathetic wannabe and stomping off.  

As soon as he lost sight of the meathead, Bertolt stalked over to the fallen trash can, giving it a good kick and screaming in pain when he heard the bones of his foot crunch, “OWW! FUCK!..FUCKITY FUCK OWW!”

 

**FIVE YEARS LATER**

 

Registration Day at the Metropolitan Police Academy was packed with potential trainees, all sporting identical shaved heads. Bertolt Fubar stood in the line for orientation, running a hand through his freshly shorn dark hair, his anxiety levels at an all time high. This was it, the moment he had been dreaming of ever since he was nine. He was finally going to become a police officer: a Constable, the Po-Po, a Boy in Blue.

After high school, he had immediately become a productive member of society; managing his father’s falafel restaurant for the past five years. Five years of handling business taxes, ordering craploads of chickpeas and tahini, and dealing with customers who insisted the pita bread was too chewy. During this time, he found time to attend night classes at a local community college.

In the past half decade, Bertolt Fubar had shed his high school loser identity: he had grown an extra six inches, making him average of six feet three inches barefoot, ditched his wannabe tool wardrobe for sensible sweaters, thermals, and flannel, and finally figured out a decent skincare routine. There was no way anybody could recognize him now…

“Pit stains, what’s up?” Bertolt heard someone call behind him in line, whipped his head around and met with the narrow eyed glance of the Meathead, three spaces away from him. If at all possible, he looked even more like a brick than he did five years ago, his blue t-shirt stretching tightly across his chest and upper arms. But his expression was amiable, the former high school Alpha had a friendly half-smile, “Holy shit, you’ve grown!”

Unable to give a response, Bertolt gave a polite nod, turning his attention instead to the moving line. Reaching the front of the line, he was greeted by two Police Academy officers, one who handed him the orientation packet and uniform, another shook his hand, “Welcome to Police Academy. Now move along.”

 

 

 

“Braun! Fubar! You’re up!” the ruddy faced trainer announced, stepping out of the ring.

Bertolt hesitantly pulled on his helmet, tightening his boxing gloves as he entered the ring, instantly chilled by the intimidating gaze of Reiner Braun, who wasted no time in knocking off his balance, throwing Bertolt to the ground and pinning him down by his shoulders. Sighing in defeat, Bertolt faced Reiner, “You’re really good at this...” Reiner nodded in agreement, “Yeah, I am. Thank you.”

 

 

 

BANG!BANG!BANG!BANG!BANG!

. Reiner fired his handgun at the paper target, delivering a series of quick shots at the target’s lower chest and abdomen. Somewhat satisfied with his results, he put his gun down, pulling down his ear protection and goggles. “Hell, I almost got it all within the range.”

He glanced over at Fubar’s shots, eyes widening in envy when he realized the trainee next to him had five near-perfect shots, tearing straight through the center range. “You’re really good at this…” he complimented the other shooter, who have a polite nod, “Thanks”, firing one last perfect shot.

 

 

 

“Now, remember, an exam does not determine the rest of your life. Except for this one, this one is gonna decide if you get to graduate or not.” The exam proctor paced around  the room, passing back test papers. He laid Braun’s test upside down in front of him, quickly passing away. Turning his test over, Reiner’s eyes widened at his score-a whopping thirty two percent-before he scoffed, “Such bullshit.”

Seated next to him, Bertolt, raised an eyebrow as he gestured at his results, a perfect score of one hundred percent. Reiner slumped back in his seat, pausing for a moment before he faced Bertolt, “Hey, do you want to be friends?”

Bertolt gave a small shrug, nervously sweating as he replied, “Cool.”

 

 

 

“Come one! Hit me in the face!” Reiner ordered, trying to provoke a frustrated Bertolt, who couldn’t throw a single punch. “I’ll fuck your mama. I’ll fuck your daddy. Hell, I’ll fuck your entire family. Twice.” he evoked, shuffling side to side, shadowboxing as Bertolt idly stood, arms down by his sides. Seeing the their exercise was going nowhere, Reiner dropped his stance, bending down to reach for his water bottle when all of a sudden...BAM!

Bertolt’s knee collided with the right side of his face and sent him straight to the ground. Before he could react, Bertolt gave two strong kicks to his abdomen, before pinning down the six foot one, two hundred and nine pound human brick against the floor, completely subduing his opponent.  Reiner struggled for a moment before he chuckled, “Wait until your opponent is in a weak position...Did good, Bertolt.”

 

 

“I’m telling you this right now, this can not fucking be a felony!” Reiner roared, gripping his pencil so tight it was nearly crushed. Bertolt sighed as he shook his head, gesturing to the practice test question, “Chill out, okay. If it has intent, it’s a felony.” Frustrated, Reiner ran his hands through his cropped blond hair, “Okay, how much more?”

“Not that much...Just seventy more questions.”

Reiner groaned, slumping forward in his seat, “God fuck me already. I can’t deal with this shit.”

 

Two weeks later, Reiner got his exam retake back, gleefully smiling when he saw the results-a passing grade of seventy one percent. When he showed the results to Bertolt, the taller male gave a polite smile, “What did I tell you?”

 

 

“One, Two, Three, MOVE IN!” Braun and Fubar burst into the simulation room, both wearing bulletproof body armor and carrying handguns and ammunition. Braun led the movement, rushing inside and firing the first shots at the pop-up perps, “Come on, let’s go.” Shot. “Let’s go.” Shot. “Let’s go.” Bertolt appeared seconds later, firing at the hard to reach perps, following Reiner’s commands. Reiner fired two shots, “Alright, clear!” before ducking for cover, “I’ve got it cleared.” Bertolt spotted a corner pop-up, and fired at it before dropping down for cover, “Done!”

 

When the finals were done, nobody was surprised to find out Reiner and Bertolt achieved great marks during their six month training, with Reiner receiving a rank of second in his class, commented to be “A strong officer, physically and mentally. Excels at teamwork and is trusted by all of his comrades” with Bertolt graduating at third, “He has great potential, but lacks initiative.”

 

 

“Ten-hut!” The Chief of the Police Academy announced in his authoritative voice over the microphone, debuting the stage of beaming freshly trained officers, lined up in a single line with the top ten ranks at the front,  all clad in true blue uniforms, proudly saluting with their graduate class, “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the graduates of Class 104.”

The audience erupted into loud cheers, as the graduates remained standing straight in their positions, each new officer looking prouder than the one next to himself. Reiner cracked a half-grin, looking over to Bertolt, whose eyes shone with pride. Leaning over to his best friend, Reiner whispered, “Get ready for a lifetime of being badass motherfuckers.” **  
**

 


End file.
